


When can I see Will again? He often thought.

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hannibal is Hannibal, Pining, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal wants to be friends with Will and he has all sorts of feelings about it. </p>
<p>That's it, that's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When can I see Will again? He often thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by a meta thread on Tumblr (URL below) to write from Hannibal's POV for once, rather than Will's, and to get just the slightest bit fluffy about how Hannibal wants to be Will's special bestest friend 4ever. I got as far as I did and then decided I was all set for this particular line of fic. So it ends kind of abruptly; apologies. It may inform things I write in the future, but for now I am moving on. 
> 
> But hey, if you just want some of Hannibal's thinky-thoughts about being Will's BFF, you have come to the right place! :D
> 
> URL for the meta: http://after-the-ellipsis.tumblr.com/post/115964352924/now-that-were-diving-right-into-hannigram-pain-i

1.

He was not as young as he once was, and these things seemed to take more time to carry out than they used to. It had been several years since Hannibal had last constructed any tableaux, and though he kept himself in good shape, it had occasionally crossed his mind that his next trio might be his last. There would come a time when his strength would not be sufficient to the task.

Cassie Boyle was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. It was an upset to his plans and patterns, but then again, who could say that this would end with Cassie? It was entirely within the realm of possibility that he could turn this into a proper trio.

But even if that did not occur, he considered it worth the upset. Constructing this piece provided him with a new feeling, which he was enjoying contemplating. Killing usually made him feel generous to the victim – he had, after all, extracted what was good from them, and had made them useful – but never before had killing made him feel generous to someone living. But here he was, hauling this girl and this stag's head – both acquired with great trouble – not for his own satisfaction, but for the benefit of Agent Will Graham, whose mind was so unique and beautiful but who required assistance ( _My_ assistance, Hannibal thought proudly) with the Minnesota Shrike. Once Will saw this display, things would become much clearer for him. Hannibal did not fault Will for his vision being clouded, for a beautiful glen might be laden with a fog that rendered it enticingly treacherous. But only when such a fog cleared could one tread with confidence, and so must Hannibal present Will with a gift of clarity.

If he were being honest, Hannibal was to some extent doing this for himself. Putting Will on this path might earn Hannibal something he had long coveted: someone who could see him, be _allowed_ to see him entirely. Someone with whom he could share the things that brought him the greatest pleasure in this world.

But was that so selfish? After all, Will would benefit too. With time, Hannibal could show him how wonderful it was to throw off the bonds of so-called “civilized society” and embrace those most beautiful, primal joys, which were arbitrarily assigned the status of “taboo.” Will thought about killing all the time, and that made him feel bad. Hannibal wanted to do what he could to show Will that it was just fine, actually. He wanted to make Will happy, so that Will could in turn make him happy, and thus might they spend a lifetime in this feedback loop of every type of earthly pleasure – both comfortable and exhilarated, they would be. Ecstatic and satiated, by turns, always.

He made a final, brief survey of his work, and lamented that he would not be present for its discovery. That was the norm when he made a display of this nature, but something was different now. It was a disappointment to him that he would not be able to witness Will’s reaction to his gift. Hannibal had worked so hard on it, he wanted it to help Will, help him see the things he’d missed, to be grateful for having been presented with it. But he would not be able to watch what it did to Will in the moment; he would have to settle for whatever might be reported to him after the fact.

He consoled himself with the thought that a day would come when he would be able to offer Will a comparable gift freely and openly, and watch as Will was overcome with a delight and wonder that mirrored his own.

He also had Cassie Boyle’s healthy, pink lungs – this too was a consolation.

 

 

2.

Hannibal was excited to cook a meal for Will. He could tell that Will did not treat his own body with respect, filled it with starches and coffee. Hannibal was eager to see the ways Will would change after eating his food.

“Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for monsters,” Hannibal said conversationally, testing the waters once he was certain that Will was enjoying his cooking.

Will could have responded with a reticent grunt, or a sardonic remark. Instead, he said, “I don’t think the Shrike killed that girl in the field.” Lovely! Will wanted to talk about murder, even over breakfast.

Hannibal pressed him for details. The fact that he’d had to miss Will’s arrival at the scene made him ache. He wanted Will to tell him every detail of his revelation, so that he might construct an image, an ersatz memory, in his mind.

And Will said exactly what Hannibal wanted to hear. The effort Hannibal had put forth in his gift to Will was not in vain. It made him feel good that he could be such a help to Will.

“Have you been reconstructing his fantasies?” Hannibal asked. He longed to hear a voice that understood him, understood his work.

But now Will became cagey; he skirted around the answers when the questions hit too close to home. “He has a few,” Will said with a deflecting chuckle. That was alright. A little teasing excited Hannibal. Perhaps he would reveal a little of how he felt about Will. For instance, he knew Will resented Jack for dragging him back into field work. Hannibal could use that resentment to convince Will to reject Jack and instead accept Hannibal’s opinion of him. If Jack saw Will as a fragile teacup, Will might assume this point of view and see himself that way. But Hannibal knew that Will was no teacup, he was a mongoose. Hannibal wanted – needed – Will to know that.

Hannibal was smiling in the car as they drove around Hennepin County, following leads. He was just so excited to learn from Will, and even more so to learn _about_ Will. Alana Bloom was very kind to give himself and Will the opportunity to get to know each other. He would have to find some way to thank her, later. True, Will claimed to not find Hannibal interesting, but that was not discouraging. What was so rare in this world was someone with the _capacity_ to understand him. The _desire_ to understand him was a simpler matter; it was currently absent in Will, but Hannibal could foster it.

 

 

3.

Ever since he had met Will, Hannibal had been having intrusive thoughts. Or at least, that was what he considered them. The thoughts that his patients identified as intrusive – inappropriate aggression, blasphemy, sexual deviancy – were notions that Hannibal happily entertained when they occurred to him; he would always take some time to think about why these images might be crossing his mind at that particular moment, and – if they occurred when he needed to remain focused on a task at hand – whether he would like to examine more thoroughly at a later time.

Lately, though, he was finding himself increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of Will Graham. His proficiency at controlling and compartmentalizing his musings evaporated, and he was constantly abandoning trains of thought to linger on Will instead, on all the things that drew him to Will, the qualities that gave him such incredible potential: Will’s fascinating mind, the depth of his capacity for human feeling, the darkness that he fought so hard to resist but which so thoroughly permeated every fiber of his being.

_When can I see Will again?_ He often thought. They had had such a lovely time in Minnesota, at the Hobbs house. It was exciting to him, to have the privilege of being present for Will’s first kill. He thrilled to the prospect of having that experience again and again. But at the same time, he was aware that such moments could not be forced. Oh, he could exert _influence_. He could make certain _efforts_. But he acknowledged that the surest way to increase his chances of being by Will’s side when something so beautiful happened would be simply to spend as much time as he could in Will’s presence.

And this he did. Will was not eager to converse with Hannibal for his own sake, but with the promise of insight which would catch more killers, he could be convinced to see Hannibal once a week, at seven-thirty. Hannibal made sure Will was his last appointment of the day, so that their conversations might go on longer than the agreed-upon hour. Will always wanted Hannibal’s help with some criminal or other, and that was mildly interesting, but he took every opportunity to turn the questions on Will himself, to his own life, his history. Hannibal had met Will somewhat later in life, and he had a lot to catch up on.

Visits to Quantico provided further opportunities to be in Will’s presence, to observe him and glean information about him. But sometimes days would go by without sight nor sound of Will, and Hannibal ached, jealous of Will and dwelling on how Will was just going about life without him, wasting precious time that they could have spent together.

 

 

4.

On the other side of the door, Hannibal could hear Will’s pack of strays suddenly go still at the sound of his approach. He took care when opening the door not to let anyone escape. Once he was securely inside the house, he presented the dogs with a string of sausage links, which he broke into pieces and distributed. The dogs gave him no trouble after that, and he was free to wander.

Will was a very private person, and the fact that he had asked Hannibal to be the one to feed his dogs while he was gone was very flattering. It meant Will trusted him, and trust was a very important part of friendship. Will had told Hannibal that his home was the only place he felt safe. So Hannibal thought it vital that he explore it, learn about Will through this sanctuary, the place where he let down his guard.

The first object of interest was the piano against the wall opposite the front door. Hannibal picked out the first notes of the _Rite of Spring_ , but in doing so he found that the piano was woefully out of tune. Likely it was inherited and served as little more than a flat surface upon which to place more books and tchotchkes. It told Hannibal very little about Will, and so he moved on. He glanced at a partially-dismantled boat motor – a comforting activity, and a part of Will’s past that he couldn’t let go of. Then he crossed the room to the bureau. Sliding open the drawers, he found rows of neat shirts and socks, and nothing more.

The next thing that caught his eye was Will’s fly-tying gear, sitting neatly mid-project on the desk, next to a row of completed lures. Hannibal took a moment to admire Will’s skill at this delicate work. The precision and patience required was an admirable trait, and one with a variety of useful applications. Hannibal was so impressed, he refused to resist the temptation to put the finishing touch on the lure in progress. He picked a feather from a board mounted with several varieties, and applying his own precise hand, he placed it alongside the shaft of the lure, wound the final thread several times, and used a needle to pull the knot tight. With a final snip of the scissors, he felt something beautiful as he admired the lure; it was the first work that Hannibal and Will had made together. Will was not aware of this just yet, but that did not make it any less extraordinary.

Removing the lure from the vice, he turned it around to see it from every lovely angle, before pressing the hook unflinchingly into the pad of his thumb. A bead of crimson swelled up around the sharp point where it pierced him. He took away the hook, gazed at the perfect drop of blood balanced on his flesh, and slowly brought his thumb to his mouth.

He and Will would do many more things together. They would _make_ many more things together. This excited Hannibal. All around him were acquaintances with whom he consumed: ate food, drank wine, took in operas, discussed books they’d read. But to have someone with whom he could _create_ , that was nearly unheard of, and Hannibal had often despaired of ever finding such a person. A true friend, who would not only keep your secrets but craft new secrets with you. Already Will was telling Hannibal secrets that he wasn’t telling Jack: about his hallucinations, about how good killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs made him feel. And Hannibal knew how close Will had gotten to Hobbs. He wondered how close Will could get to someone who _wanted_ him to see them and know them.

 

 

5.

When Hannibal looked at the clock, he found that twenty minutes had gone by since he'd put pen to paper. He'd written only two sentences in his notebook about the session he'd just finished, and then had wasted an unacceptable amount of time fiddling with his pen and staring off into the distance, thinking about Will and what he might be doing at the moment. Two days before, Will had called to tell him that he would not be at their usual session, because he was getting on a plane to take a look at some odd out-of-state homicides.

Hannibal never felt regret – life should not be wasted on a feeling like that – but he could not help but daydream about what might have happened had he not signed that letter so quickly. If he'd withheld his declaration of Will’s sanity a while longer, he would have had a reason to accompany Will while he investigated these new murders.

It frustrated him that Will was off having adventures without him. The nearly forty years that Will had spent in this world without Hannibal by his side, those were gone and it was no use mourning them. But now that their fortuitous meeting had occurred, Hannibal was growing increasingly anxious about every moment that they were not together. What was wrong with him? He hadn't chosen to feel these things. If he were his usual self, he would accept Will's absence and blithely follow other pursuits until the next opportunity to be with Will presented itself. Now he was preoccupied with the thought of Will not just doing things without him, but talking to other people without him there to hear what they were saying. Learning things without him there to know what Will's mind was absorbing. Experiencing significant events without him there to share them. What if, having spent some time away from him, Will decided that he did not want to talk to Hannibal anymore?

Hannibal forced himself to suppress this ridiculous notion. Will could easily have walked away after Hannibal had signed that letter to Jack. But he didn't. He came back, because he knew he needed more help – Hannibal's help. In fact, at this very moment perhaps, Will was standing over a body, wishing that Hannibal was with him to help him deal with his thoughts about it.

Yes, yes – now that Hannibal was turning it over in his mind, it was difficult to imagine that Will could forget about him, after all that they had already been through together. After Will had continued to seek him out even after he was no longer obligated. And especially after Will had called his work “art” in that classroom. Yes, Will _must_ have been thinking about him, just as much as he was thinking about Will.

This did not satisfy Hannibal entirely, but it was a modicum of consolation, until Will returned to him.

 

 

6.

While out shopping in Baltimore, Hannibal had, for the first time, a specific thought: _Will would like those._ This thought occurred when he was looking at cufflinks; Tateossian to be specific, with a sterling silver marine knot set in tiger-eye. Not suitable for his own wardrobe, but perfect, he thought, for Will, being, as they were, understated but elegant. Whether Will had a shirt for those cufflinks to adorn, Hannibal did not know, but that did not concern him; the shirt would be easy enough to acquire, as well as the suit to go with it, the shoes, a coat of course, socks, a few ties would be necessary, and some gloves as well. A nice watch, perhaps.

Will might not cut a particularly dapper figure, but it was obvious to Hannibal that he had a certain sartorial sensibility. To the unassuming eye, the way Will dressed himself might seem unconcerned. But Hannibal could see how much thought went into his choices in clothing: unpretentious articles in subdued colors, not merely for his own comfort, but to demonstrate to those around him that he was not part of the clean-cut officialdom of federal law enforcement, that he was unambitious, and free of all the obligations that the ambitious willingly took on – extraversion, initiative. Just a humble fisherman, who had somehow wandered off the path that led to the river and found himself in the halls of the FBI, that was what Will Graham wanted you to think. It was merely another facet of the enormous potential Hannibal saw in him.

He was ready to purchase the cufflinks, then and there, presenting them to Will in order to give him that push in the right direction. But after a moment's thought, he reconsidered. There was plenty of time, and wouldn't it be so much nicer to wait for Will to approach _him_ , to offer a little bashful flattery before asking for assistance with augmenting his wardrobe? Hannibal's interest was always in helping those who wanted to better themselves, but he would never stoop to dragging them there.

Later in the day, Hannibal found himself picking up a bottle of Gewürztraminer Spätlese, and after some contemplation, decided that Will would find a gift of Woodford Reserve far more appealing than the cufflinks. It would satisfy Hannibal's desire to present him with something of quality, but it would be within Will's area of expertise, familiar enough that he would not feel intimidated or uncomfortable.

Throughout the day, as Hannibal continued on his shopping trip, he saw all sorts of things that reminded him of Will. Some things were obvious associations: a window display of luxury items for pets, that made him think of Will's extensive and varied dog collection. But others were more speculative: _Will might like that. I wonder what Will's reaction to this would be? I should bring Will here sometime._ And so on.

Returning home, bringing in all the things he'd bought, it occurred to Hannibal that he wanted to look at his appointment book. He didn't need to; he was perfectly certain that his first patient tomorrow was scheduled for eleven in the morning. But he sat down with it anyway, and opened it not to the following day, but to the upcoming Thursday, where Will Graham was penciled in for 7:30 PM. That was four days away, yet. In the meantime, though, he had an hour with Doctor Du Maurier the day after tomorrow, so he would be able to talk to her about Will, and he was certain that would be enjoyable.

 

 

7.

Hannibal’s session with Bedelia did not go as swimmingly as he’d planned. He’d assumed that Bedelia would share, or at least appreciate, Hannibal’s enthusiasm for the new person in his life, and would encourage him to pursue companionship. But after having explained the situation to her, Bedelia concluded that, instead, Hannibal had reached the limitations of his professional ability with Will. This remark baffled him. Will was not his patient, or not just. Really, he was Hannibal’s _friend_.

This truth, however, he had even less luck with getting Bedelia to accept. In the past, he would articulate to her all sorts of feelings he had, and she would help him place himself and these thoughts in an ordinary human context: “You’re disappointed because…” “It pleases you to see…” And thus, stich by stich, his human suit became more well-tailored. For this, he was ever grateful to her.

But now, he was so certain of what he felt, and yet Bedelia denied him. He could not get her to agree that Will Graham was his friend. No matter how he explained what he was feeling, she would not identify their relationship as “acceptable.” Instead, he was “obsessed.” She told him he needed to “stop.” But how could he? He needed to act, to protect Will from the influence of others. Only then could he help Will understand the truth about himself.

Typically, Hannibal appreciated Bedelia’s honesty and frankness. But it frustrated him that she was so misguided in her beliefs on this matter. She liked him, or at least found him interesting, and respected his way of living. And she knew that he was lonely. He would have thought that she would encourage him to nurture a friendship, now that he’d finally found someone worthy of being his friend, someone he could trust, someone who perceived things and felt things so differently, but in whom he could see himself.

His conclusion was that she was too envious of Will’s new place in Hannibal’s life to want to encourage him. They both knew, though neither would admit, that Hannibal had all but lost sight of the possibility of being _her_ friend. She had been an interesting prospect, but she had been only the best he could find at the time. Now Will was in his life. When Hannibal looked at Will, he could see what he wanted to see of himself. And he knew that Will saw himself reflected in Hannibal, too. He was resistant to it, but Hannibal forgave him for this error, and intended to correct it. But already, so early in their friendship, Hannibal felt a much greater hope – a greater thrill – at finding friendship, than he ever felt with Bedelia. Really, he couldn’t blame her for being jealous.


End file.
